Stranger, Stranger
by EchelonPrime9
Summary: In which Prowl meets a stranger in the woods, and weird things begin to happen after that. Oneshot, Prowl/Jazz


_"Hello stranger, can you tell us where you've been? More importantly, however did you come to be here? Though a stranger, you can rest here for a while. But save your energy, your journey here is far from over."_  
-Green Valley, Puscifier

"And I seys to 'im, I seys to 'im; _hic_ 'yew don' know me! Ah'm ah supa-stah!'" Smokescreen's doorwings fluttered drunkenly and he downed another half a cube of high grade as the ring of bots clustered around the crackling fire burst into peals of laughter.  
Prowl was the only one who didn't laugh. He was also the only one who wasn't flat-out drunk.  
He looked at his half-empty cube.  
 _Probably_ not drunk.  
Tuning out the raucous laughter and excited story-telling, the tactician examined their surroundings for what had to be the umpteenth time that night.  
Acid rain fell from the sky, dripping down the edges of Trailbreaker's force field and landing in the Earthen soil with soft plops.  
The forest was otherwise silent except for the rustling sounds of the foliage, the crackling of the flames, and the chattering of the other Autobots.  
"Hello, stranger. Ya seem different from all these others."  
The voice made Prowl jump to his pedes, whipping around.  
Hovering just outside the force field was a bot.  
Raindrops splattered against the ragged cloak that was draped over the stranger's chassis.  
His faceplates were shadowed by a hood, but a faint blue glow indicated a visor.  
The mech was shorter than Prowl, but he still managed to loom, almost threateningly.  
Prowl might've felt alarmed, even frightened, if he wasn't who he was- or if this mech didn't demonstrate a deep, ingrained sense of familiarity.  
"Who are you?" He asked.  
"Ah'm a stranger 'til she whispers ah can stay." Came the responding whisper, and the hood tilted, the visor illuminating a pair of softly smirking lips.  
"Who's 'she?' And how are you not affected by this planet's precipitation?" Prowl's doorwings rode up high on his back. He forced them to calm.  
The smirk became more defined. "Why don' ya find out?"  
And suddenly warm drops of liquid dripped onto Prowl's armor.  
The tactician's wings flared in wonder and mild alarm and he tilted his helm back just in time for a droplet to roll down his nasal ridge and into his slightly open mouth.  
It didn't burn.  
It didn't fizzle or hiss when it came into contact with his armor.  
He turned to tell the others but they had frozen in their places; mouths open in laughter and mid-sentence. Even the fire was as still as a statue.  
Prowl turned back towards the stranger, "What's going on?"  
But the mech had gone, leaving only cold tingles running up the back of Prowl's neck and a breathy whisper calling, "Follow."  
So he did. In a seemingly random direction, stumbling over tree roots as the branches hit his face, cursing at the fact that he was so much larger than everything around him.  
A low chuckle echoed in Prowl's audios. It was teasing, almost taunting.  
Prowl stopped, annoyed.  
 _"Who are you?"_ He shouted, _"What are you even doing here?"_  
He then fell silent, fuming and hoping for an answer. Something to explain the madness.  
But there was nothing. Only the trees were talking.  
Suddenly a pair of servos were on him, tracing over the smooth panelling of his doorwings and back.  
Prowl froze, surprised into stillness. Those servos were familiar, almost comforting.  
The servos continued their journey until they halted, placed flat on the tactician's back.  
And then they shoved, and Prowl was sent tumbling down an embankment that hadn't been there before.  
Ice cold shocks were sent tingling through his systems as he landed in a rushing river of organic liquid.  
And of course, being made of metal, he sank.  
Prowl sank to the muddy bottom of the river as raging currents pushed against him, threatening to carry him away.  
"The sun is risin'" The whisper came from right beside his audio, but the stranger was positioned far ahead.  
Cloak fanning out, visor shining through the swirling torrents, the mech waited patiently for Prowl to catch up.  
Exiting the river was a relief. Prowl could feel the water streaming off him and out of his shocked systems as they emerged from the river.  
The stranger sighed softly, his lips forming into a small, graceful smile, "Th'Verde river, she continues ta watch ov'r meh." He stood in a small patch of sunlight, one of the first created by the steadily rising fun.  
He was completely dry, cloak fluttering as if being stirred by a slight breeze.  
"The.. River?" Prowl turned his helm to glance at it, and in that split second the stranger was right there in front of him, leaning up so that their lips were mere centimeters apart.  
Prowl held his breath as their lips connected- all too briefly- and the stranger murmured, "Weigh your worth before 'er majesty, th'Verde river."  
Then, with no warning, the stranger reared back and smashed his visor into Prowl's faceplates.  
As he fell, Prowl could've sworn that, through the glittering pieces of shattered visor, he saw a pair of iridescent cerulean optics.

0o0o0o0

Prowl awoke with a gasp, doorwings fluttering and arms instinctively tightening around his mate, who recharged next to him in the berth.  
"Prowler..?" The berth was lit dimly as Jazz's visor flickered online. The saboteur shifted, turning his helm, "Ya a'right?"  
"Yes," Prowl whispered, burying his face into the crook of where Jazz's neck cables met his shoulder strut, "Just a recharge glitch."  
"Okay." Jazz shifted again, offlining his visor. A few moments later, the smooth sounds of even venting told Prowl that his mate was recharging again.  
Shaking off the last fragments of a shattered visor and frozen flames, Prowl offlined his optics and drifted back into recharge.


End file.
